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fish on land

Christian

Lifting the paper between us—the evidence that everything I’ve worked for in life has been reduced to rubble—I offer my friend the truth.

“This is the first time I’ve seen this. I’m glad Janie has gotten state of the art care.

I’d love to be able to take credit for a gift of this kind of significance, but I can’t. My signature here was forged.”

“But—”

“But what, Cian? I have nothing to gain by denying my involvement in something this critical to your family. The only person who might oppose it is your dad, and that would only be because his pride wouldn’t allow him to receive such a gift.”

“Then how?”

“If I had to guess, and I don’t want to be right, your sister did this.” I look at the paper again before letting it flit to the desk below me. “It’s dated less than a month after she moved in with me.”

“Liam told me about the idea of her helping Dad. We both think it’s bullshit he spouted to spin you up. There’s no reason she’d help that arrogant ass.”

But the light is dawning. “Even if it meant Janie’s quality of life?”

His mouth opens and shuts like a fish on land fighting to breathe.

He stares off into nothingness, lost in thought.

When he comes back from whatever memory or assumption he must have of his sister, he shakes his head.

“It’s the only thing I can think of that would even make her consider it.

Me or Liam? Maybe… well, probably. But Mom? Yeah, I can see it.”

“So my whole marriage is a sham. She used me so your mom could have more progressive health care and not have to fund it.” I extend a hand like the paper is proof of what I’m discovering. “So she was helping.”

He shrugs. “It looks that way.”

“And Seamus wasn’t lying…”

“Apparently.”

“Well?” I don’t even know what I’m asking or insinuating. I’m just… stuck.

“But—” Cian pauses as if trying to figure out a brain teaser. “With your logic that he’s being truthful, why did she stop? And when?”

“Only she knows.”

Cian shakes his head. “No, Christian. You’re wrong.

She doesn’t. Her amnesia isn’t an act. There have been too many moments over too long where she could’ve made a mistake and slipped up.

My sister is sharp, and we both know she can be cunning, but she’s no liar.

She’d have let down her guard somewhere.

That hasn’t happened with me. Liam hasn’t revealed it’s happened with him.

Have you seen anything to indicate she knows more than she’s letting on? ”

“Other than her declaring to Seamus that she remembered when no one was supposed to be within earshot?” Well, except a man she’s been trying to discredit since the day I took that bullet.

“Shit. I know.” His hands rest atop his head, elbows wide. “But I don’t… There would be signs.”

There would be signs. Cian’s words roll through my head all day and into the evening.

I head home after eleven because I don’t want to see his sister or speak with her. Forgery, falsehood, farce. All three F-words lead me to the same place. Fool—that’s me.

A sticky note is on the counter.

There are leftovers on a plate in the fridge for you. Corinne says it’s one of your favorites. We need to talk, Honey. It’s not what you think.

The fuck it isn’t. It’s exactly what I think it is.

I consider the food for two seconds before I decide on a liquid diet. There’s little I suspect I can keep down. Bourbon, though… that’ll do.

One tumbler later, I access the cameras on my phone to find Ayla asleep in the guest room. Hell behind door number one or hell behind door number—the choices are ridiculous.

I shower and fall into bed in our room. Our room . I’ve got to get my head straight around this language. Nothing is ours. Technically, with the guardianship, I guess everything is mine. The businesses, the houses, the money. I can easily adjust the order where she has no access.

My head knows I should; my heart can’t bear to consider it.

I slide into fitful sleep, waking less rested than I’ve been in ages. I skip Georgio in the morning since looking at the machine makes me think of my caffeine-addicted wife and her once-cute coffee-related chatter.

How many days can I use my home as a hotel, coming in late and leaving early to avoid living there? I guess the answer is indefinitely, but that means a dwindling of my soul.

No. It’s not my house that is the problem.

It’s that my life, my love—hell, my heart, mind, and soul—are tied to the woman who made my house a home.

As furious as I am over the whole fucked-up situation, when it boils down to it, I’m brutalized by her betrayal and withdrawing based on her violating every gift I’ve given her.

Me: Assuming you’re covering Ayla today.

Fitzgerald Young: Always.

She may deserve my wrath, but she doesn’t deserve anything more.

I rub a hand against my shoulder where the bullet ripped my flesh. The phantom pains still exist. But the memory… that’s unforgettable. Either they came for me and she could’ve been killed. Or they came for her and I was in the way. I’ll always be in the way of someone coming for her.

I don’t have to be speaking to her, but she won’t be hurt if I can help it.

And I can help it.

It’s been three days, and I’ve taken to sleeping at my office. I know a hotel would be a better option, but that would be defeat, and I won’t admit defeat. I refuse.

Rumpled suits and wrinkled shirts aren’t defeat. Disheveled hair and ties permanently askew aren’t defeat. They just happen.

My phone buzzes and rings constantly.

If it’s not Ayla, it’s one of her brothers. I take none of their calls and never respond to their texts.

Ren and Fitz check in.

I drink.

I’m rubbing four days of stubble growing across my chin, enjoying the prickle of whiskers and the scratching sound as they move against my palm when my phone buzzes with something worth my attention.

Liam Murphy: Footage from the night you were shot was “patched.” Old, empty video overlaid actual.

Liam Murphy: I managed to peel off the layer. High tech shit, by the way. Whoever did this has money, knows their shit, and has hackers to bypass my firewalls and security.

Liam Murphy: Ayla was right. Two fuckers were on your property. No faces. All black—head to toe. One has a slight scar at the temple. It’s the only thing I can find to clue us in so far, aside from weight. Heat signatures put one at 220 pounds. The other at 190.

Before I can respond, another message arrives.

Liam Murphy: Actual footage sent to you and Gallo. Omitting Young since Ayla saw him on those cameras, too, and not where he said he was.

Liam Murphy: And she knows what she saw.

Me: How do we know if anything has been patched before? Or since?

Liam Murphy: I’m running diagnostics with forensic level shit. Digging in now. You’ll know as soon as I know.

Liam Murphy: Assuming you want me to add the forensic filter to everything moving forward?

Me: At home. In Aspen. And on my office. We’ll discuss the holdings later.

Liam Murphy: On it.

Me: Might need to consider it for you and Cian, even your parents.

Liam Murphy: That goes without saying.

Liam Murphy: Ayla sounds awful when I talk to her, by the way.

I don’t respond to that. I can’t. This whole situation is untenable. I miss her. I want her. I don’t know how to trust having her.

I send a message to Ren.

Me: Ayla was right about the hooded figures. Liam found the security footage was tampered with.

Ren Gallo: The hackers were fast.

Me: Explain.

Ren Gallo: They tampered with it immediately. They disabled the motion sensors in real time. Which means they knew our system better than we did. Better than Liam did. That’s scary.

Me: I’m wondering if it was an inside job.

Ren Gallo: I’m not saying that. Even Fitz, who disappeared and reappeared that night, or Liam… Neither of them would jeopardize you. Who in your crew would? Who could have access?

Me: I’ll think on that. But keep this between us. No reason to tip off Young if he’s dirty

Ren Gallo: He’s not dirty. I’d bet my life on it. But I won’t say a thing to him. The fewer people who know, the easier it will be to find the leak.

Flipping back to Liam, I ask what I should know but don’t.

Me: I want a list of everyone who could have access to the system, when they got it, what permissions they have, etc.

Liam Murphy: On it.

So, Ayla wasn’t lying about the masked men. This being in the dark is bullshit.

I toggle to the phone app, select one of five contacts in my favorites and press go.

Two rings later, she answers. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

Silence.

Man, things weren’t this awkward when we started dating.

“You were right,” I start.

“Of course I was. But about what this time?”

“The men skulking around the house the night I was shot. Your brother discovered the video was altered.”

“And you believe him?” Her emphasis on the last word tells me all I need to know.

Right… “I wanted you to know that the threats are greater than we knew.”

“Greater than you knew, you mean. Since you didn’t believe me.”

Apparently, this isn’t the time for this.

“Stick near Fitz.”

“Since you’re never here, that would be the obvious choice.”

She’s pissed. I’m emotionally exhausted, and our conversation is going nowhere.

“Bye, Princess.” I disconnect before we can say more.

That’s it. I’m going home. I can’t do this anymore.

Before tossing my phone down, I flip to the cameras in the house and watch Ayla.She paces before stopping, twisting her head, and looking at the camera to give me the bird.

Well, at least I know this Ayla.

The question is how well does she truly know me.

When I arrive home forty-five minutes later, there’s another sticky note on the counter, this time on a manila file folder.

Christian,

I’m sorry.

I was bluffing when I told Dad I remembered. I was so shocked by his question I wanted to see what he would reveal.

I guess my bluff worked, because you—a man who says he knows me like no one else on the planet—believed it as much as he did.

There’s nothing I can say to convince you what I feel for you is real. This is the only thing I can think to show you I meant it when I told you I love you.

Yours,

Ayla

I open the folder to find legal ownership to Aspen & Evergreen signed over to me.

No. No. No.

This isn’t what I want. I want her dreams to come true for her. I want everything for her not for myself.

I tuck the documents away in my desk for safekeeping. I have no intention of taking her business. This back and forth has to stop. I dial her and follow the song to find her phone on the mudroom floor near the hall tree.

Opening the garage, I see all our vehicles are there.

What’s going on?

I flip the security app on my phone as I yell her name throughout the house. Silence is the only thing that greets me. I run to our bedroom, all the while calling her name. By the time the app opens and I see she’s gone, I’m dialing Fitz.

“Young. Leave a message.”

Fuck!

I stop, flip my phone onto speaker, and call Ren. I get the computer voice for generic voicemail.

I think I’m going to lose my shit when my phone rings. “Yeah?”

“Barone.”

“Liam, she’s?—”

“I’m sending a pin. Three men walked in your back door and kidnapped Ayla and Young. Black suburban, newer model year. License plate six alpha tango one two one whiskey.”

“Where is she? Where is my wife?”

“I’m following the SUV now. We’re in Lakewood, heading to— Fuck.”

“Liam? Liam! ”

“Check your text. It’s one of Dad’s properties. Bring backup.” He disconnects before I can tell him he’s my only backup.

I can barely think as I fly through intersections, red lights be damned, winding my way to Lakewood. The map app is constantly talking and the voice grates on my nerves. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, and that’s including the days at Ayla’s bedside when we didn’t know if she’d wake up.

I knew I’d be by her side in thick and thin. If I sat there waiting for her to wake, there was hope. Knowing someone took her from our home and they could take her from me permanently, there is no surviving that.

The drive is a race against the clock, though I have no idea what happens when the clock hits zero. Liam never calls or messages again, and my repeated calls to Ren go unanswered and I receive no responses.

I skid to a stop in front of the building, the brakes screeching and the smell of burning rubber pungent as I exit the SUV. If I was supposed to come in stealth, I never got that memo. Then again, never in my life have I been stealthy.

I check my phone one last time, hoping for some indication from Liam of the situation I’m walking into. There’s nothing there and nothing to prepare me for what I see walking in the door.